


Choke On It

by Salmon_Pink



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Breathplay, Hate Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:25:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5563384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/pseuds/Salmon_Pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux has long since suspected Ren would one day try to choke him like this, an invisible grip tightening around his throat. He has not, however, anticipated his own reaction to such an assault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choke On It

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for _The Force Awakens_. Contains non-negotiated kink (breathplay). Written for [The Force Awakens Kink](https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org), [prompt](https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/1082.html?thread=42298#cmt42298) "Kylo/Hux, Kylo's throwing one of his temper tantrums and Hux tries to calm him down only to find himself with an invisible hand around his neck. Turns out, he likes being choked a lot more than he thought he would".

Hux feels his top lip curl in a sneer, face illuminated by the glowing red of Ren’s lightsaber. “Yes, by all means, keep destroying our equipment,” he hisses as the blade slices through a monitor with a flurry of sparks.

Ren’s rage fills the whole room, ice-cold and dangerous. The lightsaber flashes through the air as he swings it, the movement seemingly wild and yet fiercely precise in every blow.

Hux watches with his own sense of anger. True, he knows he is expected to calm Ren in these moments - Phasma has made it quite clear she doesn’t approve of having to continually spare troops to clean up Ren’s messes. But Hux’s duty is to the First Order, and he resents the idea of coddling Ren during his violent outbursts. 

His mouth moves of its own accord, his voice sharp and cruel. “I’m sure the Supreme Leader will be none too happy to hear of _another_ of your tantrums. Why don’t -”

The words cut off as abruptly as his air. Ren has whipped around to face him, lightsaber still clasped firmly in one hand but the other is outstretched towards Hux, the fingers curled in midair like a claw. The monitor behind him smokes faintly, the broken fizzle of electronics whirring and dying the only sound beyond the hum of Ren’s blade.

Hux tries to gasp in a breath, but he can’t. It’s as if he can _feel_ the indents of fingers at his throat, but when his own hand scrabbles at his skin there’s nothing there. He’s seen this before, of course, has seen Ren hurt and even kill others without laying a finger upon them. He understands it is the Force pushing down on his windpipe. But even with the understanding lurking at the back of his mind, he still gropes desperately for a hand that isn’t there.

The crushing pressure releases all at once, sudden enough to make Hux stagger. Breath rushes back into his lungs, and something else with it. A warmth, a _heat_ , blood pumping and extremities tingling. His vision wavers, and something sick and sinful unfurls in his gut, something that makes him gasp harder than the renewed feel of oxygen.

Ren has withdrawn his hand slightly, but now it hovers uncertainly between them, and Hux has the feeling that behind Ren’s mask his eyes are narrowed and studying Hux intently.

The lightsaber shuts down, and the silence of the room rings in Hux’s ears.

He experiences a brush of _something_ at his throat, like smoke thickened enough to feel, yet still mostly insubstantial. Not quite there, but still present enough that Hux is aware of it. 

He can’t tell if Ren is questioning him or testing him with the not-there touch, but either way he has sensed Hux’s reaction to being choked is not what it should be. Perhaps he can simply see it upon Hux’s face, but there is also the possibility that he has drawn it from Hux’s mind, and that cannot be allowed to stand.

“You embarrass yourself with this -”

The pressure this time is not strong enough to steal Hux’s words from him, but he finds himself falling quiet as if it is. It builds slower, like a palm wrapping around his neck and gradually squeezing more and more firmly. Without the suddenness of finding himself without breath, Hux is more conscious of his body’s reactions, of the way his muscles tense and quiver, the way his nerves light up as his oxygen decreases.

He is growing harder beneath his uniform with every passing second.

Ren’s head tilts slowly. “Perhaps it is not _I_ who embarrasses himself,” he murmurs, voice distorted, but behind the taunting tone there is obvious curiosity. 

Hux’s smile is cruel, twisted, mocking. “And yet you choose to continue this,” he spits, voice little more than a rasp. “I did not consider you took such _pleasure_ in losing your temper.”

The grip on his throat loosens for the barest of moments, and then he’s being lifted, feet leaving the floor. A sensation like lightning courses up his spine beneath his skin, as much pleasure as pain, mouth falling open as he instinctively tries to suck in air. Hux feels himself being pulled forward, the toes of his boots scraping parallel lines across the floor as he’s drawn closer to Ren’s body, helpless as a planet in orbit.

His cock pulses within his trousers, balls drawing up tight.

Ren’s outstretched hand is only an inch from Hux’s throat when the dragging stops. “The only _pleasure_ I take is in seeing you silenced,” he snarls, but even with the voice-modulator, he sounds hoarser, rougher, drunk on the suspended sprawl of Hux’s body.

Hux’s boots clack against the floor when he’s dropped back to the ground, the grip at his neck keeping him from collapsing entirely. His chest heaves as he struggles to breathe in as much and as quickly as possible, and then the touch is tightening again. It makes him dizzy, disorientated, but Hux draws his chin up as much as he can, forcing his hands to remain at his sides.

He stares into the blank eyes of Ren’s mask defiantly, and pushes forward into the invisible hand at his throat.

Ren’s own breathing is ragged. His fingers twist and curl in front of Hux’s face, telegraphing every increase of pressure. Hux’s vision tunnels, black creeping in around the edges, a coldness growing within his mind even as the rest of his body _burns_. 

“Childish,” he jeers, his voice a whispered wreck. “A disappointment.” 

Ren growls at him, the sound making Hux’s fingernails scratch at his own thighs, and his air cuts off completely once again.

There are spots behind his eyes, red and vibrating. “Pathetic,” he mouths, no sound behind the words but still projecting as much venom as he can with his gaze. Riling Ren up, wrestling control in the only way he knows how, even as his body surrenders to the lust cresting within him. “Solo!” His tongue slides against the roof of his mouth on the last syllable, lips pulling back to bare his teeth.

Ren’s lightsaber clatters to the floor. His gloved hand streaks forward that last inch to grasp Hux’s throat, the leather smooth and warm compared to the flexing _nothingness_ of before. An incoherent noise of pure anger is ripped from him, something primal enough to make Hux shudder.

He can feel his eyes rolling up in his head, his mind slipping away from him, cock straining against his uniform, lungs on fire with the need for air. 

And then Ren is releasing his throat, hand fisting in Hux’s jacket instead when he slumps forward like a lifeless doll. The returned air hits him like a blow, Hux’s whole body seizing up, as if everything has been muted but now he’s suddenly overwhelmed by his own senses. The taste of his own saliva, the smell of Ren’s fresh sweat, the sound of his hungry panting, the sight of Ren’s mask gleaming, and the firm touch of Ren’s hand against him, and Hux comes with a soundless shout that rattles in his chest.

He’s exhausted, trembling, the inside of his throat feeling scraped raw and tender. Ren is breathing heavily, his grip on Hux’s uniform tight enough to tear the seams.

Hux tilts his head back, stares up into Ren’s mask and grins, wide and manic and nasty. “Temper, temper,” he chastises, barely audible, and when Ren growls again and does not let him go, Hux is content that whatever game this may have been, he has _won_.


End file.
